


Unmasked

by ACelestialDream



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Sith Era - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Shadow of Revan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 01:38:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4647450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACelestialDream/pseuds/ACelestialDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darth Marr encouraged the rumors that he was gruesomely disfigured beneath his faceless mask, but the truth was far more dangerous.  Now he is trapped with Satele in a Sith temple, where an ancient ghost demands a price from all who enter.  Even the greatest of Force users can succumb when temptation compels them to reveal who they really are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So....Darth Marr and Satele Shan. Why not? They are two of the most powerful Force users in the galaxy, so in many ways they balance each other out. Can I really picture them falling into a trap like they do in this story? Maybe, maybe not. But once the idea popped into my head, I knew I had to give it a go.
> 
> Update: I'm kind of tickled pink with the events in Chap 12 of KOTFE. Maybe there really was a spark between them...

Darth Marr blinked twice to activate the Visual Incremental Enhancement Wearable in his mask. His vision magnified, the VIEW unit zooming in on the Jedi who stood on the other side of the temple’s wide entry room. Not just any Jedi. Grand Master Satele Shan was walking among her troops, offering encouragement and an occasional arm squeeze to the soldiers under her care. Over the thirty-odd years Marr had been wearing the mask, he had perfected its capabilities, and as a consequence had honed his ability to lip read as well. He watched the words fall from Satele’s lips.

_...steeped in the dark side...tombs still echo with their essence…_

Her troops were afraid. The ghosts of these ancient places, powerful Sith lords all, had left their indelible mark, and the walls still seeped with their power. It was no wonder that the weak-willed among them were affected. They had no choice in being here, however. The fragile alliance which had brought he and Satele together may have given them a common cause, but that didn’t mean that they trusted each other. Whenever one side pursued a lead, the other brought their forces well, presumably for back-up. They both knew though that the real reason was that each side insisted on keeping an eye on the other.

Marr was keeping his eyes on Satele now. He and Satele were almost the same age, but the years had been kinder to Satele than to him. Being masters of the Force had given both of them extended youthfulness, and even now Satele still had the dark hair she had been born with and a body honed by years of athleticism. But Sith cared little for beauty. It was power that mattered, and cunning, and the skill to survive. Scars were signs of battles won and enemies destroyed. Marr wasn’t the most powerful member of the Dark Council for nothing.

Satele looked up from her conversation, her lips tightening. Marr was certain that she was looking right at him, even from this far across the room. He doubted that she knew he’d been eavesdropping, but she had felt the weight of his regard. He blinked rapidly again, and his vision returned to normal magnification.

Marr turned and walked back to where his troops were setting up camp in the temple. Everything was in place. A few men were starting a campfire underneath the temple’s cracked, open roof, while others were cleaning weapons or checking scanner read-outs. Everyone was engaged in industrious activity. As it should be.

Earlier, Marr had caught one of his female soldiers in a compromising position with her male compatriot in a dark corner of the temple. That two young soldiers would indulge their passions with each other was not entirely unexpected, but that they would do so while on assignment under his purview was another thing entirely. Normally fear of him was enough to keep his troops in line, and these individuals had been carefully selected before beginning service. He allowed only the most skilled, dedicated, and obedient in his company: snipers, explosive experts, intelligence operatives, men and women specializing in military tactics and displaying the highest level of combat proficiency. A discipline problem like this was more suited to a bunch of green cadets, not the top crop of special forces.

A skinny underling Marr recognized walked past and he shot out a hand to still the man’s passing. “Whose temple was this?”

The man shuddered under Marr’s touch, but was too polite to pull away. “Uh...I believe a Lord Gravinia, my lord. She-”

“I know who she was.” A lesser lordling, who had enjoyed some small renown during her time. She had not earned her fame through guile or conquest, but rather due to her extravagant vices, memorable even for a Sith. She had pushed the boundaries of taste and credulity, taking over a hundred lovers (so it was said) and shocking even her fellow Sith with her insatiable appetites.

Marr glanced over at the dark corner where he had found the two trysting soldiers. That he should encounter this indiscretion in the temple of such a Sith could not be coincidence. He would keep a close eye on his troops to make sure no one else was affected.

While the troops ate a simple meal and settled in for the night, Darth Marr wandered down an off-shooting corridor. They needed to scout out every inch of Yavin IV, until they were certain that there was no place on this jungle moon where the mad Emperor’s spirit could be hiding. The dark was impenetrable here, but he activated the night vision sensors in his mask and walked easily through the crumbling ruins. The jungle had taken over this far into the temple. Tangled vines weaved across the ceiling and down the walls, while strange mosses and mushrooms grew in crevices along the chipped stone floor. A faint rain of pebbles skittered across the ground behind him and Marr froze.

He sensed no one, not even through the Force, and likewise, his night vision showed him nothing. He kept moving forward, stepping silently now. Dank, misty air settled over his mask, creating a fog over his eyepiece. He swiped it away with a glove. He could hear the faint splashing of a waterfall nearby. Up ahead, deep in the recesses of the temple, someone laughed.

There were ghosts here still. A whisper trailed past his ear, fading away behind him as if a living body had passed by where he stood. A breeze picked up, moaning through the cracks in the stone. No, Marr thought, it was a voice he heard, not the wind, followed by a ragged gasp. Marr turned away, unwilling to go any further.

The way back to the campsite took longer than he remembered. Twice he had to double back because he had missed a turn. He could have sworn the corridor was straight when he had traversed the distance the first time, but now it swayed and dipped like a wounded animal. Marr’s vision clouded once more and he reached to clear his mask, but the haze remained. A smoky scent seeped in through the mask’s air vents and Marr knew he was nearing the campsite. The smoke was unusually acrid. Had they burnt the meat rations? Marr’s head swam as a wave of dizziness overtook him. Something was wrong.

He engaged the air filter on his mask, and waited for his head to clear. The men had burnt something alright, likely one of the local plants with hallucinogenic properties. The temple was filled with thick smoke. Marr stepped into the firelight and stalled.

Where once there had been a lively camp of soldiers, now there was nothing but their empty bedrolls. Weaponry lay scattered about, cooking pots over turned, everything left behind as if his troops -- and the Republic’s as well he noted -- had all deserted in a hurry. They had left behind their packs, their supplies, weapons, rations, tech machinery. Everything. Marr looked out into the shadowed jungle. They would never survive the night. Not with Massassi brutes and even wilder creatures stalking the grounds. What had they seen in the smoke that had led them to leave so abruptly?

He reached the campfire and stomped out the flickering embers. Then he heard a moan.

A figure was hunched in the far side of the room. Marr knew immediately who it was. He stalked over and stood by her.

“Satele. What transpired here?”

She blinked, looking around but not really seeing him. Her fingertips touched her temple.

“Visions…” she said. Her voice was hoarse. “Strange. I was...somewhere else…” She straightened suddenly. “Where is everyone?” She struggled to her feet, understanding dawning across her face. “They ran into the jungle? We can’t leave them out there. We have to bring them back.”

“Be realistic,” Marr said. “They are scattered by now. You expect to find each one of them in the dark, alone? We need to leave this place and go further into the temple where the air is clean.” Marr had scattered the ashes of the fire, but the smoke still lingered. His filter could only take so much and he had no desire to be affected.

“No. I won’t do that.” Satele took a few steps towards the temple exit, then staggered as if the floor had shifted underneath her. She leaned forward with her hands on her knees, stifling a cough. “I need more time to purge this smoke.” She sunk to her knees in a pose of meditation.

“Satele,” he said, louder this time. “Get up. We must leave this place.”

She ignored him, so Marr turned away. He had no qualms about leaving her. He reached the back of the entry room and turned. Satele was up again and walking towards the exit, where outside the jungle had already turned dark. What the Jedi called bravery Marr called foolishness. He waited to see which way she would go first. Satele stepped over the stone threshold. Then something utterly strange happened. She simply disappeared.

The night was not so dark that Satele should be out of sight already. Marr could still see the shapes of trees swaying in the wind against the gray sky. He activated his night vision, as well as his zoom lens, but the jungle was empty. Unease prickled across his scalp. There were other powers at work here.

Marr moved to the temple’s open doorway and peered out. No sign of Satele. He drew his lightsaber and stepped outside.

His vision wavered, as if a shimmer of heat were rolling over the landscape, and then he was buffeted by a gust of wind nearly strong enough to knock him off his feet. A howling gale had replaced the quiet night, with the trees around him nearly bent in half. The wind tore at his hood and battered at his body with invisible fists. Far away, Marr thought he could hear voices. Had Satele found the missing soldiers? Marr stepped forward a few paces, then realized that the voices now seemed to be coming from another direction. In fact, every time he moved, the voices moved with him, shifting around him like a mirage. Satele and their troops should be yelling, calling out locations and orders, but these voices, Marr realized, were jumbled and incoherent, talking over one another in varying volumes and tone. Some sounded angry, others jovial, one was singing.

Marr turned around, half expecting the temple behind him to have vanished, but it was still there. It looked different though, cleaner, with less vegetation crawling over the stones. Whatever Marr had stepped into, it wasn’t here and it wasn’t now. He had to go back.

Marr moved forward, the weight of his legs pulling him towards the ground as if he weighed ten times as much. He trudged towards the temple entrance, hoping that it too wasn’t just a mirage. He would get closer if he kept going. Surely. He grunted and lurched forward, wrestling his body through the windstorm, throwing himself at last across the threshold in one final surge of determination. He fell to the ground on the floor of the temple.

Compared to the ruckus outside, the temple was eerily silent. Marr climbed to his feet. The entryway looked as it had before, with the old campfire still smoking, and the remains of his troops’ supplies scattered about.

Marr turned to look outside. There was Satele, just beyond the temple’s threshold, flickering like a holo image about to fade out. She had a look of determination carved across her face, and she was moving slowly, as if wading through water. Marr leaned as close to the edge of the flagstones as he dared, and thrust his arm outside. Satele was blinking in and out to his vision so he felt his hand close around her arm, rather than saw it. He yanked her towards him and across the open doorway. She barreled into him, barely catching her balance.

“Marr!” She blinked up at him, surprise and relief in her voice. “This place is under some foreign power.” She was breathing hard, as if she had traveled much farther than he had to get back. “We can’t leave here. At least for now.”

“I know,” Marr said. “I went outside for only a moment, and found my way back with difficulty. We will have to spend the night here.”

They moved further into the temple, both stepping cautiously with lightsabers drawn. They encountered nothing but empty stone passageways, and finally stopped in a small room. Satele slumped against a wall and closed her eyes. Marr turned off the air filter in his mask and took a careful breath. Nothing but dust and the earthy scent of roots here. They were safe for now.

He stared down at Satele. _The great Grand Master_ , he thought, _defenseless at my feet._ It would be easy, so easy, to just ignite his lightsaber and put an end to her right now. It would be an undignified death though, and one that, for now, would only hinder their efforts. If he killed Satele, chaos would reign and their fragile peace would be shattered. That served no one.

Marr left to explore the surrounding tunnels, trying to gauge how far into the temple they had gone. How big was this place? He moved carefully, making note of each step and turn. He passed niches in the walls that held empty-eyed stone statues and stepped over encroaching vines blocking his path. At one point he passed a room with what looked like an altar in the center. To his right he heard the laughter again.

There was a short stairway leading down, which curved sharply and faded out of view. Marr followed. Whispers trailed after him and footsteps passed over his head. When he looked up, there was nothing there to see but a ceiling that stretched beyond sight. This place was thick with ghosts, or maybe it was all the doing of one ghost, the Lord Gravinia who had ordered the construction of the temple. Somewhere was her tomb, perhaps even nearby.

That laughter again, closer this time and accompanied by the echo of distant music. Marr turned away. It was time to go back.

A wall rose up behind him, blocking his path. Where was the hallway he had just come down? The stairs? For a moment, the ground swayed under his feet and Marr felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. He blinked and the room was transformed.

Rays of starlight painted the walls in shades of silver, but the room was no longer bare. A sumptuous red carpet had appeared under his feet, and the room was crowded with people. Marr blinked, trying to refocus his VIEW unit, but the figures remained fuzzy and indistinct. He could see enough though to understand what they were engaged in. Sith had held parties like these for centuries, although Marr had had little interest in pleasures of the body now for well over a decade. At first, he thought he was seeing an echo of the past, scenes taken from the memory of this room, but then he realized that what he was being shown was far more personal. Everything here, the women, the costumes, the activities, had been taken from his fantasies as a young man, a perfect copy of his every desire. His gaze fell on a male Sith stretched out on a dais in the center of the room. He was straddled by two women, and as Marr tore his eyes away, one of the women beckoned to him. He stepped back. Visions like these could only be meant to ensnare the foolhardy.

Marr spun and this time, the hallway he sought was there. He hurried down it, but couldn’t shake the sensation that something was sweeping up on him from behind. Any moment and it would overtake him, and what then?

A breeze scented with flowers ruffled the edge of his hood. A female voice spoke in his ear, her voice mouthing nonsensical sounds at first, which gradually coalesced into words. Promises. Hands roved over him, hands that he shouldn’t have been able to feel through his thick armor. They danced down his spine, caressed his head, trailed over his arms. Fingers reached out to pluck his mask from his face.

Marr threw his hands before him, a growl of menace escaping. No one touched his mask, not ever. _None of this is real_ , he told himself, but still, he was shaken. No living soul, no apprentice, no underling, not even any servants, had seen him without his mask. He lived alone, with droids to attend him, for this very reason, content to encourage the rumors and speculation that said he was hideously disfigured, that even the sight of his ruined face was enough to urge men to suicide. The truth, however, was far more dangerous. It was his most dire secret, and he intended to keep it that way, ghosts or no.

He covered his face with his hands, lowered his head and charged forward like a mad Gundark. Hands tore at him, and something tangled around his wrists. He fought it, reaching for his lightsaber, but now the entanglement had snared his legs and his torso. Had he blundered into some jungle vines? He had no time to think, or to reengage his night vision. _When had his night vision gone out?_ The floor slipped out from underneath him and his world tilted sideways.

A splash burst from around him and he was submerged, flailing for purchase where there was none, sinking into a cold, thick muck. Something - weeds, roots plants? - wrapped itself around his ankle, keeping him from breaking the surface. He was in a pool, but the water, if water it was, was like sludge. The breathing filter on his mask clogged and Marr gasped for air. He was thrashing now, heedless and enraged. He pulled on the Force and prepared to hurl himself out of the water, but he paused, confusion setting in. Which way was up?

A shocking pain dashed Marr across the left cheek, his skull shuddering with the force of the blow. He had caught himself on a rock? He felt the seal to his mask breaking and panic set in. Filth and slime flooded in, choking him.

He, Darth Marr, a lord of the Dark Council and one of its longest surviving members, had been tricked into drowning by a mere ghost.


	2. Chapter 2

Marr was no longer a young man, but his manipulation of the Force had extended his youth beyond that of normal men. He was hale then, and strong, and had the benefit of years of experience. He would not drown in some jungle bog, or whatever this stinking pit was. He surged forward and broke the surface.

“Marr!”

He spun towards the voice.

“Take my hand!”

He felt the Force lifting him, pulling from the muck, and he threw out his arm in the direction of the voice, Satele’s voice, uncaring for the moment that she was seeing him now in such a moment of vulnerability. Her hand found his, gripped it, and he was pulled forward by sheer muscle and by the power the Force, until he collapsed on the stone floor. His lungs craved air, but there was still none to be had, and Marr realized that his mask had been compromised. He was going to suffocate if he didn’t remove it. Desperate now, and angry, he tore it off and flung it down next to him, curling around himself and letting his hood shield his face. There was nothing but the barks of his coughing and heaving to fill the silence.

Darkness surrounded him. Marr grew still, reaching out to sense whether Satele still remained close. She was gone, but she had not moved far. He groped the ground, using his hands to reveal the layout of his surroundings. Then Satele was back, her hand gripping his arm as she helped him to his feet. She led him - did she realize yet how much he needed it? - back towards the room where he had left her. Inexplicably, it was not far. Perhaps the temple made a giant circle and he’d come full around.

He sunk to the stones as soon as she let go. He waited for her response, her admonitions, her questions.

“Marr, you are bleeding,” she said.

“There’s nothing to be done for it.” His waved a hand dismissively in the air, shocked at how weak and raspy his voice sounded. Indeed his cheekbone was on fire, and he wondered if he’d fractured it.

“I can heal-”

“No.” Stars above, he had to keep her away from him. If she saw him, if she understood, she would have to die. And that was damned inconvenient.

“Fine then.” There was reprimand in her tone. “At least put a disinfectant on it. We probably don’t want to know what organisms lived in the mud in that pool.”

He heard her shuffling through a bag, and the tinkle of a bottle being deposited at his feet where he sat. Marr raised his head, only a fraction, and stared at where she was sitting. She was a shadowed lump. He couldn’t even tell if she was facing him anymore. He reached out instead with the Force and saw her in his mind’s eye, glowing like a cold, bright star. He lowered his head once more, burrowing deeper into the confines of his hood.

Somewhere in front of him was the little bottle of medicine. Marr removed a glove and swept his hand along the ground, but he was too clumsy, and his knuckles hit the bottle. He heard it topple and felt wet against his fingers. When he at last picked up the bottle, he would tell by its weight that it was empty.

Angry and defeated, his crushed it in his fist. Now his hand was bleeding too.

The bright star that was Satele inched forward. “Marr…”

A bit too late, he realized that Satele was reaching out to him. He raised his arm to knock her away, but her fingers were already closing around his bare chin. He froze.

She tilted his head towards her and his hood fell away. Marr shut his eyes in dismay.

“Marr,” she said again, softer this time, and the note of pity in her voice made his fist clench. “Are you blind without your mask?”

He opened his eyes and tried to focus on her. She was a blurry silhouette and nothing more. “Not completely,” he said. He hated how defensive he sounded.

Her hands cradled his face and power surged between her palms. Marr resisted the urge to jolt backwards away from her. He felt trapped and smothered. Her power was cold, and it stung.

“Does the feel of the light actually hurt you?”

“I just don’t like it,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Well, you’ve got a serious gash here.”

Marr waited stiffly for her ministrations to end. No one had touched him, skin on skin, since more years than he could count. Her touch was gentle, but every cell in his body resisted just the same. She was the enemy and she knew his weakness now. The last person to see his face had died on the end of his blade.

“Enough!” He jerked away. The pain in his cheek had dulled. What pain was left he could endure.

“Let me see your hand then.”

“All this is unnecessary.”

“I am offering you help. Why can’t you accept it?”

“Why do you insist on helping me in the first place?”

She was quiet a moment. “Why insist on remaining injured when there is something that can be done about it?” 

He tightened his jaw and then held out his hand. “Do it quickly then.”

She captured his hand in hers and he felt the light once more as she drew her fingertips along his palm. It felt like someone had submerged his hand in ice.

“Your power is cold,” he said. _Passionless_ , he thought.

“Really? No one has ever told me that before.”

“Have you ever healed a Sith before?”

“I have healed those tainted by the dark side, but never a fully committed Sith. The experience must be different for everyone.”

“Perhaps.”

She let go and sat back. “The cuts on your hand are gone. I have also mended the fracture in your cheek bone, but if you let me try one more time, I can finish sealing the wound closed.”

It was all he could do not to growl. “Fine.”

She slid closer. Moments later, her fingers slid across his cheek. The cut across his skin began to itch, distracting him enough that he almost didn’t notice when she reached to clasp the back of his head. With a gentle pressure she drew his head towards her.

“You keep pulling away from me. Does being healed bother you that much?”

“I am not used to being touched.”

“That’s too bad,” she said quietly.

“Tell me you wouldn’t object to me doing the same.”

“You trying to heal me, you mean?”

“Touching you, I mean.”

He felt disapproval rolling off of her, but not disgust, interestingly. He had no idea what came over him next, but he reached out and found her cheek. Her skin was soft against his palm, and her hair entwined through his fingers. Were the ghosts whispering again? Somewhere near his ear there came a sigh.

Satele stiffened but did not pull away. She simply took hold of his wrist and removed his hand.

“It must be a lonely life for you, Marr.”

He bristled. “And yours isn’t? We are two sides of the same coin.”

“I don’t think so. I…” Her voice trailed away and she lightly touched her fingers to her forehead. “Did you hear that?”

“The voices? I hear them.”

“They keeping telling me things…”

“What do they tell you?” He knew only too well what they were saying, or what they were saying to him anyway. They urged him to come investigate the temple further, promised him that he would enjoy what he found, told him that he would have a place at the party… Did they say the same to her, or did she have other fantasies?

“They urge me to give in to the dark side.”

Marr had the feeling that she was being vague on purpose. “Don’t go exploring then. You are better off here.”

“Because I’ll be safe with you?” She let out a short laugh. “Now that is saying something.”

“At least you won’t end up at the bottom of a pool.”

“Whose ghost guards this temple?”

“Lord Gravinia. She was a Sith known for her sexual appetites.”

“I see.”

“The spirits of this place wield power, even in death.”

“Yes. I should be wary.” True concern tainted her voice.

“Your power ignites the dark,” he said, thinking of how bright she shone to him, “and they seek to snuff it out. You are filled with too much of the light.”

“So I should open myself to the dark side to compensate? That would not be wise. ” She shook her head, a motion he could actually see. “You should get cleaned up. There’s a little waterfall nearby. It’s clean.”

Marr tried to picture himself bumbling about searching for it. It was undignified. “Lead me there.”

Satele said nothing, and Marr wondered if she was frowning. She stood though and offered him her arm without comment. “This way.”

00o00

She shouldn’t be watching, but curiosity had gotten the better of her. The tiny waterfall was lit by the glow of bioluminescent mushrooms nestled in the cracks of nearby walls. It was tall enough for even someone of Marr’s stature to stand under, and ran clear, unlike that fetid pool Satele had found Marr flailing in. She didn’t ask how he had gotten there. Already she had seen the power of the visions conjured by the ghosts of this place. There was power here, ancient and alluring, which played tricks on her mind and body. She didn’t like it.

Satele had been working alongside Marr now for three weeks. He was an imposing figure, more so in his armor, which normally covered him from head to toe. It was armor designed to impress and intimidate, with enormous spikes along the shoulders and twisted leatherwork that brought to mind the muscle and sinew of a beast. Few people living, Satele was certain, had ever seen him without it.

Sith lived reckless, violent lives, and so Satele was not surprised that Marr should carry extensive scarring or even deformities. Satele had been prepared to see signs of gruesome disfigurement when she looked upon Marr unmasked, although she was curious why he was reluctant to reveal himself to her. Some Sith reveled in their battle scars, and many took satisfaction that the mere sight of their faces caused fear. Marr seemed to have something to hide. When she turned his face to the light, he was not what quite what she had been expecting.

He had the milky white pallor typical of a Sith, and dark lashes that contrasted sharply with the whiteness of his skin. Half of of face was whole and unblemished from the nose down, with the kind of strong jaw and lush lips that woman swooned over, although his nose was a bit too hooked to have called him handsome. There was a faint trace of stubble against his upper lip and chin. Above that nose, however, his face was a ruin.

A deep gash ran from his forehead, past his nose and across his right cheek. It had once been a grievous wound, for the upper part of his face looked nearly split in half. It cut across both eyes, and for a moment Satele wondered if he had eyes at all behind his closed eyelids. But then he opened them. His irises were cloudy and nearly pupiless, and they stared past her vague and unseeing. Once, Satele guessed, those eyes had been blue. Now not even the power of the dark side could transform them.

He had cybernetics implanted into both temples, with exposed nodes that were obviously meant to interface with his mask. He was perhaps unable to take advantage of the new technology that could be melded directly into the eye socket, and thus was reliant entirely on his mask to see. To a Sith, and more importantly, a member of the Dark Council, this would be a dangerous deficiency. Satele suspected that she could very well be the only other soul in the galaxy who knew his secret.

Now, Marr was peeling off his sodden armor and was dunking his entire head under the waterfall’s steady stream. His hair was cropped short, dark in color everywhere except at his temples, where it grew in stark white. Marr was unrecognizable without his armor. He looked entirely too human, the shirt melding against his muscled chest and arms. Satele’s gaze lingered a moment too long and Marr lifted his head in her direction. He could not see her, but he had other senses with which to detect his surroundings. Satele turned away, confused at her reaction. Indulging in such voyeuristic pleasures was something for an unschooled Padawan, not a Jedi Master.

She went to where she had left her robe and bag, plumping both of them up so that they would make a suitable pillow. It was night and she should be exhausted. Yet her thoughts felt scattered and melancholy, and her mind insisted on dredging up old memories best left forgotten. How long had it been since she had gazed at a man in admiration? Too many years had passed since she had felt Jace’s arms around her. She still recalled the thrill of succumbing to her body’s need, even when her greater judgement had urged against it. She had paid dearly for that transgression, and had made more than a few mistakes in the years that followed.

She tossed on the hard floor. Marr was creeping back now, his hand running along the wall to guide him. She wondered if she should rise and help him again. Surreptitiously, she watched him as he settled on a stretch of moss. A moment ago, she had been thinking of how he looked nothing like the Sith lord she knew, but now the recognition was back. He carried himself like he expected the world to bend to accommodate him, and moved with the grace of a warrior. With his mask he had been a faceless menace. Without it, he was a man again.

_I don’t regret sleeping with Jace all those years ago,_ she thought suddenly, scandalized at her own thoughts. Mistake or no, she had experienced something powerful that few Jedi ever knew. How simple and instinctive it was, the draw between lovers, the lure to know and be known.

Satele rolled to turn her back towards Marr. _Sleep_ , she admonished herself. That's what she needed. This place was making her strange and sentimental.


	3. Chapter 3

Marr lay on the ground, unable to sleep. He was maskless, and far from his manor, where there were security droids to guard him. Being awake had its own perils, however. The night was alive, and the temple breathed around him. Too many restless spirits haunted this place, some of whom might not appreciate he and Satele’s intrusion. While his head was submerged in the waterfall, Marr had been certain that he had felt a hand touch him, but when he reached out, both physically and with the Force, there had been no one there. Marr listened now as voices muttered and breezes sifted through his hair. Perhaps they should have taken their chances in the jungle. He could fight beasts of flesh and bone, who bled like any other. Ghosts were another story.

Someone spoke his name, his real name, the one he had been born with. He knew he should not listen, since the ghost’s thrall had already almost lured him to his death. The voices were growing bolder, making suggestions, conjuring images of his deepest, forgotten fantasies. Marr was a fighter and strategist. Battle rage was his passion, not that of desire. Yet, as the whispers curled around him, Marr felt a young man’s hunger awakening, and his body grew taut and uncomfortable. He dug his fingers into his palm.

He was restless and the chipped stones allowed him no comfort, even the ones softened with moss. He rolled onto his stomach, but the pressure of his own weight against his groin was unbearable, and he the urge to move to satiate himself in some way squirmed into his thoughts. No. He would not writhe against the floor like some rutting animal. He sat up.

Satele was gone.

Her power had shined to his Force sight, and the absence of it now sucked at the air like a void. It was not enough that he had decided he couldn’t kill her. She had to leave this temple alive, even if that meant that he had to be the one to keep her that way.

He rose and picked up his mask. He had washed the grunge from the filters the best he could, but still the air through it was stale and weak. His vision sparked as the electric nodes struggled to link. He brought up the command interface and in red blinking letters he read, connection failure. He tore off the mask and dropped it at his feet. Satele wasn’t far. He could feel her presence. That would have to be enough to guide him.

He found her around the corner. She was blocking the hallway, hunched in on herself. At first, Marr wondered if she was an illusion, or if the ghost of Lord Gravinia had finally chosen to reveal herself. But then he heard her repetitive muttering.

“There is no passion, there is peace…”

“Satele…” He laid his hands on her shoulders. Her skin was hot and damp with sweat and she smelled of earth and soap, a simple observation that he marvelled at now that the mask no longer covered him. Her body trembled beneath his hands, a sign, Marr knew, of powerful emotions being forcibly suppressed.

“I am stronger than this,” she said, more to herself perhaps than to him.

“The visions only show you what you already desire.”

She straightened and took a fortifying breath. “I’m going back. The voices will not draw me away next time.”

His hands were still on her shoulders, so he felt the movement as she turned to face him. Her elbow knocked into him as she pushed him aside, but then she stopped.

“Which...which way?” She turned again and reached up towards her face, and Marr could see the motion of her arms twitching like she was rubbing at her eyes. “What is this place?”

Marr had seen the carpeted room and the party. He wondered what tableau Satele saw. She swayed slightly. When he gripped her upper arm to steady her, she jumped as if she had not remembered that he was there.

“Why are you here?” She sounded so young suddenly, confused and out of her element. Did she see him as someone else? Her hands pressed against his chest, exploring as if he were an unfamiliar surface. They trailed lower towards his abdomen and Marr felt his muscles clench. During the healing, she had touched him with power in her hands. This time, her touch was curious, and Marr found that he didn’t mind. No, he didn’t mind it at all. Her hand drifted lower, stopping only when it reached his belt. He longed for it to keep going, surprised at his own reaction.

“Ignore the ghosts of this place.” He leaned close, until her braid tickled his cheek. “I am real.”

“Yes,” she said, her hands travelling back up his body. “Yes, you are.” Her hands found his face, tracing the contours of his lower lip, brushing the scar on his forehead, fluttering over his closed eyelids.

“Darth Marr.” It was a statement, said with satisfaction. But then her tone grew worried. “I thought...for a moment I mistook you for someone else.”

“Who?” he asked. “Your old lover?” Marr had met her son. He was an SIS agent here on Yavin IV. Satele had had moments of weakness then, at one time at least. He had no idea who the father had been.

“I don’t have lovers.” Her hands pulled away.

“You are no stranger to lust Satele. Unless you were unwilling?”

“No,” she said quickly. “It wasn’t like that.”

“So, at one time, you chose passion over peace.”

“Why are we discussing this?”

Why indeed? Satele had always been striking, but somehow Marr had never thought about it before now. He wanted to touch her again. The thought of Satele, the galaxy’s greatest Jedi, undone over simple lust excited him. If it had been possible once, it could be possible again. The voices whispered in his ears, urging him on.

He drifted closer, and his lips found the hollow between her neck and collarbone. He could feel the heat of her body through his thin shirt. Sometimes there were advantages to not wearing armor.

“Fight it, Marr.” Her voice was shaky, the normal confidence in it gone. “I don’t think this is what you want.”

“But it is.” It was exactly what he wanted. He wanted to feel her beneath him, moving against him and with him. His body craved rhythm, needed it like air, and he nearly shook from the restraint required to keep still. He was already growing hard.

“We…”

She stalled as his mouth slid over her bare shoulder - had she removed some of her clothing? - down until he found the indentation inside her elbow. He curled her arm around his head.

“...shouldn't do this...I can’t…” She turned her back to him, and leaned forward against a nearby wall, as if she needed the support. Such a position only brought her backside more easily in contact with his waist. He held back with difficulty. He was not so far gone that he would grind against her like some libidinous youth. Instead he encircled her hips, tugging her closer.

“Do you want me?” He said it against the back of her neck, and again along the delicate skin beneath her ear. Her breathing was turning ragged, as was his.

“There is peace...there is no…” Her voice trailed away as a sob escaped her.

Marr knelt on the ground behind her. His hands ran up her thighs until they disappeared beneath the long tunic that covered her. The waistband of her leggings caught under his fingers and he pulled it down towards him, peeling the fabric off her until it pooled on the floor at her feet. His slid his hands upwards until he found the cleft between her legs. She was slick and swollen. Her sob turned into a moan.

“You do want me.” He stroked her with a finger. When was the last time any woman had been aroused by him? “No one needs to know what happens here tonight. You already know one of my secrets. Now I will keep yours.” He slid up her body, turning her around, then angled his face between her thighs and covered her with his mouth. She let out a choked gasp.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered.

He pulled away only long enough to speak. “I don’t intend to.”

00o00

Satele couldn’t recall how she had gotten here. Her mind was stuffed like a pillow and just as pliable. The voices swirled around her, telling her what she already knew: that she couldn’t resist any longer, that she was incapable of resisting. A flame had kindled in her gut, burning through her loins and melting her legs so they were as weak as a blade of grass. This wasn’t Jace. It was Darth Marr, the defacto leader of the Empire and her greatest enemy. But he wasn’t acting like an enemy now. He was teasing her gently with his tongue, his large hands gripping her hips. She should care about this somehow, should push him away, but all she could do was arch her back against the rough stone to encourage his tongue to shift just so slightly, yes there, like that…

He slid a long finger inside her, stroking her now from the inside, matching the rhythm to the movements of his tongue. Satele flattened her hands against the wall behind her, her legs trembling now almost too much to keep her standing. Marr hooked an arm under her knee and drew one of her legs up over his shoulder, then leaned in, adding the support of his body to hers. He was adding more fingers, and it had been so long since her body had been coaxed into accepting any kind of penetration, that his fingers alone were enough to give her the sensation of being stretched.

Her muscles tensed, her thighs rigid and trembling. Cracks opened at the edges of her vision and then her world tore at the seams, everything shattering like glass. Marr moaned against her, the vibrations from his mouth against her body sending more shock waves through her. She sucked in air like she was dying.

Marr withdrew, giving her only a moment, and then he pulled her towards him away from the wall.

“On your hands and knees.” His voice was rough and deep, as if uttering words was an effort. Satele felt her insides tightening in anticipation, knowing what he wanted of her, and wanting it as well.

She dropped to the ground and he got behind her, his palm on her back, pushing her onto her hands before she could do it herself, down until her face was pressed towards the floor. She sunk onto her elbows, feeling both wanton and vulnerable, and equally aroused by both. His knees slid between hers, fabric rustled, and then he was pressed against her, slick and hot, pushing into her, urging her body to accept him.

Her body was years out of practice and even though she was wet and ready and wanting, there was resistance as he entered her. He groaned, pushing harder, and Satele felt him, rock hard, coaxing her open. The cool stone floor pressed against her cheek and dirt slid under her nails as she curled her fingers into the dust. Marr moved deep inside her, his hips pumping against her, rocking her whole body until her knees scraped across the floor. She felt none of that, only the line of sizzling flame, a line that shot through her like a live wire, painting the back of her eyelids with spots. Marr’s hands traveled up her back and a sizzle of power exuded from his fingertips. It wrapped around her spine and prickled over her skin in a crackle of electricity, sharp and startling. Force power rolled off of him like a churning wave, until it twisted around her wrists and ankles, rooting her to the floor. 

“Yes.” His fingers trailed down her back. “Just how I want you.”

Satele turned her forehead against the uneven stones, not feeling the need to test the strength of these bonds, not caring if he had her captured beneath him. He was interested only in doling out pleasure, and she would take everything he offered. Far away, she recognized that she was trapped at the mercy of a Sith, naked and open as he took her there on her hands and knees. This realization should have made her apprehensive, but instead it only fueled her desire.

That desire was cresting now, building to an unbearable crescendo that had her wound so tight she thought she would snap. She gasped like she was drowning, her back arched and rigid as Marr drove into her with increasing abandon. A whisper like the trail of smoke feathered across her skin, the voices she had heard earlier turning into breathless howls, the spirits of this place appeased at last. Satele’s throat hitched on a sob as the ache in her body turned into a throb, and for a moment her own cries drowned out those of the ghosts. Behind her, Marr growled low and ragged as he emptied everything he had into her, and then he collapsed against her back. The side of his face was damp with perspiration, and he shuddered once. He curled an arm around her waist, holding their bodies joined together, unwilling yet to separate himself from her.

The Force bonds around her limbs dissipated and slowly Marr withdrew. Satele gathered herself up, her muscles shaky and spent. Marr turned away, moving with sure steps down the corridor, his fingers trailing against the wall. She was glad for the privacy. She didn’t think she was capable of looking him in the eye. Perhaps it was best that he couldn’t see her. She found her clothes on the floor and began to dress.

She returned to find him sprawled on the floor, his head propped against his folded up shirt and an arm across his eyes. She had envied him his mossy spot before, but now she saw that if she only allowed herself some space next to him, she could share in that small degree of comfort. She crept close and slid against the wall, keeping their bodies from touching.

Hours ago, she would never have imagined sleeping this close to Marr, but she was exhausted and this time, sleep came easily.

No voices awoke her during the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Satele awoke, instinct telling her that it was morning, even though the dim light of the temple looked the same as when she had gone to sleep. Marr was standing by the waterfall, cupping his hands under the spray and splashing water on his face.

Marr.

The soreness in her arms and thighs told her that last night had not been a dream. She could still feel sensation of Marr tracing a line of electric fire down her spine, the memory like a distant echo. Humbling, that’s what it was, the knowledge that even now, even after years of Force mastery, the power of the dark side could still overtake her better judgment. The memory filled her with chagrin, even as it stirred up echoes of longing. Still, she reminded herself, nothing terrible had happened here. No lives had been lost, no plans sabotaged. She had lost only her pride, and nothing else. She could live with that. She wondered if Marr felt the same.

She waited for him to finish at the waterfall, and then stood to take her turn. Marr paused as he passed her, his head following her movement.

“Last night we appeased the spirits of this place,” he said, his voice quiet and slow. “Did you notice?”

Marr had a way of speaking, a cadence, deliberate and commanding, that crawled into a person’s head and stayed there. In the past, Satele had wondered if there was a compulsion woven into it, the kind of Force manipulation that Jedi sometimes used to influence those with easily swayed minds. Was he even aware that he had such an effect on people? Satele began to wonder if it had been more than just the ghosts of this place had lured her into having such intimate relations with Marr the previous night.

“Is that what you call it?” Satele said mildly. “Appeasement?”

“Did you hear any more of the voices after you after you gave in? See any more visions?”

“No.”

“As I said then.”

Satele had started to walk away, but now she whirled around to face Marr again. “Did you know that such a power lingered here? And what it would take to placate it?”

“Are you are accusing me of deceiving you? I was caught under its spell as easily as you.”

“Well,” Satele answered, “What is done is done. A lesson learned perhaps.”

Marr made a low chuckle. Satele realized that she had never heard him laugh before, but this was not a mirthful laugh. Rather it made her feel like he was lording some knowledge over her.

“Such lack of self-control bothers you. You could not have denied it, even with forewarning,” he said. “It was unexpected for me as well. But…” his tone turned thoughtful, “I enjoyed it more than I thought myself capable.”

A beeping noise started emitting from Satele’s bag. With surprise, Satele realized that it was her comm unit. She had tried to use it last night to contact the lost troops, but had gotten no signal. Now, even though they were still deep within the walls of the temple, it was working again.

“Master Satele!” The soldier on the other end looked relieved. “Are you all right? Where are you?”

“At the temple where we intended to camp. It is just me and Darth Marr though-”

“-I know! All your troops - and the Sith’s as well - arrived at the outpost this morning. They are confused and disoriented, telling wild tales.”

“They are all well though? Alive and safe?”

“Yes, Master Jedi. Every last one. A landspeeder is already on it way to fetch you. I will let them know that we made contact with you. Can you meet them outside the temple?”

Satele agreed, closed the connection and then glanced towards Marr. He had refitted his mask and looked once again like the faceless warrior she knew.

“Is your mask working again?”

“No,” Marr answered. The VIEW unit is still non-functional.” The timbre of his voice had changed back to the one she recognized as distinctly Marr’s. It was easier to remove herself from the memories of last night now that Marr sounded more distant and inhuman once more.

“I will guide you if you need it. I can be discrete.”

Marr nodded. “What happened here, and how you saw me today...we will not speak of this again.”

“Of course. We both have things to protect.”

“Yes,” Marr said slowly. “I am not the only one wearing a mask.” He crossed his arms. “It is a fair trade. For now.”

Satele finished washing up, packed what meager things she had on her, and then went back to the temple entrance. The belongings from her and Marr’s troops were still where they had left them. Satele spent time grouping up supplies so they would be easier to pack and transport. When she was done, she found Marr waiting outside.

She had a moment’s hesitation when stepping out of the temple, but no fierce wind tore at her, and the sun shone brightly like on any other day. Marr was waiting with his back towards her and his hands clasped behind him. They stood together in silence, not speaking, until at last Satele heard the whine of a speeder engine. It grew louder and then burst through a wall of vegetation, sliding across the open courtyard of the temple to stop before them.

A Republic soldier hopped out, followed by an Imperial one. “Got more transports coming,” he said. “We’ll get these supplies back, Master Satele. Let the driver take you back and leave the rest to us.”

“Thank you.” Satele lightly touched Marr on the arm and tugged him forward. He followed close beside her. She led him towards the back seat of the vehicle and watched as he climbed in with slow and deliberate care. Then she moved to sit at the front.

Back at the base, Satele avoided conversation and sought the solitude of her tent. Before she could reach it however, one of her commanders intercepted her.

“Master Satele! What happened out there?” The woman’s eyes were bright with genuine concern. Satele was reminded of what her leadership meant to these people. Standing against fear brought out the courage in all of them, a courage they desperately needed to succeed.

“Some Sith spirits are stronger than others, and we found a temple that wasn’t safe. Everyone made it out alive though, and that’s what counts.”

The woman nodded. “It’s a miracle for sure. Doctor Haverhill said they all inhaled enough of that hallucinogen to kill them. Yet so far none of them are showing any ill effects. But you...you spent the night alone in there.” She glanced off towards the far side of the camp, where the Imperials made their base. “With Darth Marr.”

Satele steeled her face to impassivity. If what had happened between her and Marr not taken place, would the spirit of Lord Gravinia have taken revenge? The thought had never occurred to her before now. Marr had said that they had appeased the spirits of the Sith and her followers. Satele felt suddenly humbled. It was possible, and a strange thought for certain, that the soldiers owed their lives to her and Marr.

A type of sacrifice, she thought. That’s what it was. She had thought it was her pride that she had given up, but now she saw that they had each revealed much more. Had Marr known? Satele had assumed that he had been the weaker for succumbing, and that such hedonistic desires were evidence of the Sith’s baser natures. Was there more to it?

“Yes,” Satele said absently, “it was a long night. But we survived and I’m well now. Just...tired.”

“Of course. I’ll let you rest.”

Satele sighed once alone again in the privacy of her tent. She wanted a good, long nap, something to help her forget the goings on of the past night. Marr’s voice was still echoing in her head.

_The visions only show you what you already desire...I am not the only one wearing a mask._

An unexpected shiver rolled across Satele’s shoulders and down her arms. Perhaps she and Marr were more alike than she wanted to admit.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Darkness and Light](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4821611) by [Niscenna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niscenna/pseuds/Niscenna)




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